Remembering

I was a freshman in college when 9/11 happened. I woke up early that day for a meeting with my college advisor, someone I now can't remember at all, and the sky was an infinite blue, the kind of blue you remember forever. I walked into my dorm and everyone was gathered in the common room watching the television. Everybody knows the rest.

I was taking a creative writing class that semester and I wrote a poem about the event and shared it in workshop the following week.

I don't recall any part of the poem, but when I was done reading it the professor paused for a long time. "I think ...." she paused. "I think it's hard to write about an event as big as this without some time to process it."

Maybe it was her very diplomatic way of saying that it wasn't a very good poem. I didn't know anyone personally who had died in the Towers. What did I have to say about it? Or maybe we really do need time to process before we can write about big events. I wish I could go back to that college classroom and ask her to clarify. I guess, in the end, it's up to me to decide. I guess I feel lucky to have the opportunity to do so.

This March marks two years of the pandemic. Mask mandates are being lifted. Is it ... over? And what does "over" mean anymore?

What I'm trying to say is that I don't have a poem for you, yet. All I know is that this March, which has contained a constant string of overcast, dreary days, I scour the yard looking for the tiny buds of spring. This March, maybe, like me, you're remembering.